Boys || h.s

chapter 1;

Arabella’s POV:

I sat at my desk, tapping the eraser on my freshly sharpened pencil onto my chin. I was staring at my notebook. It was opened to a page that consisted of only my name, Arabella Walker, and nothing else. Due to the countless days of my procrastination, I finally decided to do my essay that was due the next day for my English Lit. class. It’s 5:16 pm and I’ve been looking at a blank sheet of paper for what feels like an hour. Who gives essay after only two weeks of being in school? Right, mine does.

I sighed and leaned back into my chair and looked out the window. It’s early September and Chicago hasn’t bothered to go even a few degrees below eighty. The warm wind tells it all as it seeps through my window and into my room. I got up from my desk and went to my bed and laid on it, covering my eyes with my hands, while whispering the usual words of encouragement to myself.

“Fucking hell Ara. Get your shit together.” 

Over the summer numerous shitty things have happened to me and I’d much rather forget about them, but they always seem to find away to get back into my head. It’s like every where I look it triggers something in my brain to remember all the bad things that have ever happened to me, which sucks. I don’t like showing emotion to anyone, so I never talk about anything, because I know for a fact that I’ll cry, and I don’t cry. Make me watch the saddest, most mind boggling movie and all I’ll do is blink. Am I heartless? No...I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve loved things before, but... 

My phone started ringing, causing an end to my confused thoughts about myself. The caller ID read: Brett. Wonderful.

“Yes?” I said rolling my eyes. Why’d I give him my number again?

“Arabella! How’s my favorite person in the world doing?” Brett was talking really loud. Loud enough for me to be able to hear him even if my phone was a few feet away. 

“Um, I’m doing fine.” 

“WHAT?” Brett’s voice raised even louder than before, causing me to cringe. My ears not enjoying Brett’s obstreperous tone. 

“I’M FINE.” My voice raised a bit more than before. Hopefully my mom doesn’t hear me. She’ll with out a doubt take my phone away since she knows I’m supposed to be writing a paper, and not talking to a guy I met over the summer. 

“Oh,” I’m assuming Brett was somewhere else since the muffled voices were gone, and his voice was finally at a normal volume. “Nice.”

“Yeah...” Can this conversation be over? I don’t dig awkwardness.

“I’m at this little shindig at Hay’s house and I was wondering if you want to come over? You know, talk, maybe have a smoke or something.” 

I looked at my desk and bit my lip. The paper filled with nothing but my name just layed there, waiting to be finished. Or in my case, waiting to be avoided. 

“Hay’s house right? I’ll be there in fifteen.” I said scurrying to my closet. I was in a tank top and pajama shorts.

I could feel Brett’s smile through the phone. “Cool, I’ll meet you half way?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, I’ll see ya.” With that, the phone call ended. 

I placed my phone lightly on a chair and looked back at my closet. I picked out my white muscle tee, blue high waisted shorts and my all white classic converse. As I was putting them on I noticed something on them, it seemed to be written on with marker. A heart’s L. Well isn’t that a stab in the heart.